


In Pain

by ingoldamn



Series: Romeo and Juliet Fics [4]
Category: Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: F/M, I'm Sorry, It's kinda sad, M/M, Unrequited Love, apparently i can only write angst, but i failed, i blame benvolio, i tried to make it happy, one several counts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 04:42:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingoldamn/pseuds/ingoldamn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mercutio loves Benvolio, Benvolio loves Romeo, Romeo loves Juliet and Tybalt loves no one and is loved by no one.</p><p>(A Romeo and Juliet fic which is a lot sadder than this summary suggests - also very short)</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Pain

**In Pain**

Benvolio is in pain. The most terrible agony, he has ever been in.

This is not because of a mortal wound. This is not because he, once again, has fought with Tybalt Capulet and angered both the Prince and his uncle.

It is because of Romeo.

Beautiful, brilliant, clever Romeo. Romeo with his romanticism and his trust and his youth and his love; his burning, brilliant _love_ that is never anything but platonic to its very core. Romeo, his cousin (he tries to remind himself of this, but it never seems to make any difference), who loves him as a cousin.

Romeo is in love. First it was with Rosaline, the beautiful but cold Rosaline, but it seems that he has moved past this infatuation.

Benvolio would have been glad for it, except… except it seems someone else have taken her place in Romeo’s heart. Someone equally beautiful and equally unobtainable. It was clear, just from the way Romeo gazed at her at the ball, that his heart now belongs to the beauty of Juliet Capulet.

And she is fair, Benvolio concedes, and kind, from what he has seen of her at least, and he hates her, and his heart aches for them, for there is no way that their love can prevail. The world is against them, yet Romeo seems not to notice and Benvolio hates him too; hates his obliviousness and his thoughtlessness and his carelessness and his naivety.

At least, he wishes he did. Everything would be much easier if he truly did hate Romeo, but, God help him, he doesn’t. He can’t.

He has loved him since before he knew what it meant to love. And it hurts him, it pains him, to see the object of his affection not just happy and in love, but happy and in love with someone else. It hurts to see his hope for the future, for Benvolio sees not the future, but rather the grave Romeo has dug for himself.

He falls into Mercutio’s open arms and tries to forget the pain of a broken heart, never noticing his own pain reflected back at him.

 

Mercutio is in pain. Never in his life has he felt pain like this.

And it is all because of his best friend; because of Benvolio.

Benvolio is in pain. He is good at hiding it and Mercutio does not believe anyone else have noticed – certainly not Romeo – but Benvolio was never any good at hiding his feelings from Mercutio.

They could always see right through each other, even if Benvolio’s gaze was always fixed on Romeo, while Mercutio’s was fixed on Benvolio.

He has loved him since they were young, as long as Benvolio has loved Romeo – the ever oblivious Romeo, who never sees anything.

Mercutio thinks he could hate him, if the circumstances had been different, if he hadn’t first-hand experienced how Romeo cares for his friends, if he hadn’t loved him, just a little.

But, he thinks, no one could know Romeo and not love him – except perhaps Tybalt, but Tybalt loves no one and therefore does not count in this regard.

So Benvolio loves Romeo and cries for it, and Mercutio opens his arms and holds him close, invites him into his bed and offers comfort the best way he can.

He ignores the sting he feels, when Benvolio whispers Romeo’s name in his sleep, and never once dares to show his pain to his friend; doesn’t dare to tell him how he feels. It would only bring him more pain and Mercutio could never be that heartless.

It does not matter. He will prevail, as he always has, and he will never say anything.

After all, what would the point be?

**Author's Note:**

> \- This was written for Martina because she inspired this
> 
> \- I tried to make it happy - I swear to every deity in which I don't believe that I did, but I failed.
> 
> \- Characterization probably sucks/is non-existent.
> 
> \- I'm ingoldamn on tumblr - come say hi!


End file.
